Virgin Color
by Shandi Luaine
Summary: Draco was a Narcissus of the modern era, he bent over the river, but instead of drowning in his reflection, he stepped back and went to see in others’ rivers to find out that finally they weren't better than he was.DM/HG Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**VIRGIN COLOR**  
by Shandi Luaine

**Disclaimer:** This story contains characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Warner etc... No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.  
**Genre:** It's a mix of romance, drama, and humor...  
**A/N:**This is the first time I write a fanfiction in English, I hope you'll enjoy reading Hermione's tribulations. I think it's getting more interesting from the 2nd chapter though. I'm proud of this fic, but it's known that every authors are proud of their story... until they write another one. A big thanks to Emybellerose, my beta. She helped me to improve my English and write something credible. And for those who hate D/H fictions : I know that D/H pairing is unlikely, but fanfiction are unlikely. Aren't they? Now please, read and review.

_"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness."_

Woody Allen

_**Chapter 1 Specks of dust**_

_ It was a great idea, but she was already late; maybe, she could just take another train and not do the surprise. She got the idea when she got her masters degree in wizard's law. Harry had come back from his holiday in Italy and realized that he had forgotten to give the double key back to Ron. She decided to make a surprise trip and visit her boyfriend in Italy. She ran towards the train—and her great idea—ignoring the feeling that this would end messily._

_She remembered the day Ron said that he had accepted the chance to open a Weasley shop in Italy. She had been upset because they had never been separated for a long period of time, because he knew she couldn't come with him, and because she loved him._

"_You don't trust me"_

"_It's not about trust Ron," she responded discomfited. "It's simply about… us."_

"_Don't be so afraid Hermione. I will always love you."_

"_Why are you leaving me?"_

"_I'm trying to think ahead, to live… It's not as if I'll never come back; it's only a two year trial."_

"_Yeah, well,"_ t_hough unsatisfied, she didn't say anything more and hugged him._

'Nothing will spoil my surprise,' she thought strongly as she got onto the train, 'Nothing.' She dragged her luggage all over the train trying to find a place to sit. 'Nothing!' She collapsed onto a seat in the last carriage between two old stinky men, a working girl, and Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was looking at her with such total indifference that Hermione wondered if she even recognized her. She tried to behave the same way, but couldn't help looking at her face. It was just too strange to meet Pansy on a muggle train and dressed in muggle clothes.

Despite the end of the war and its causes, some old rivalries stayed the same and others changed into cold bitterness often disguised under polite civility. Still, Hermione didn't know how to act in front of the Slytherin girl.

Pansy was a bit like her, she realized with horror. She wasn't really pretty; she was petite, brunette, and had two mosquito bites in place of breast. But money, if it can't give happiness, can give beauty and pride.

However, Pansy didn't look as prideful and haughty as she did in school Hermione noticed. Her gaze was melancholy, hopeful, and… what was she doing on a muggle train?

How bizarre, Pansy's on a muggle train. How bizarre, Pansy's staring at the land with melancholy expression. How bizarre, Pansy's getting a book out of her bag. How bizarre, Pansy's looking at her. Hermione immediately turned her gaze towards the window. She saw Pansy frown and start to say something, but fortunately the train-traffic inspector arrived and asked them for their ticket.

"A ticket?" asked Pansy in disbelief. "Why do we need a ticket to travel in this dirty cauldron?"

"You have to pay the service…the driver, the constructors, and all the staff," the inspector explained placidly.

"I didn't know I had to buy a ticket," she said more calmly.

"Are you coming from Mars?"

The look on Pansy's face clearly said that she hadn't understood what he had said. Indeed, she seemed to be wondering if there was a trap in the question, "Yes."

"Hmm, I'm going to have to give you a fine," he stated undisturbed.

"For being Martian?"

"For not having a ticket," the inspector replied, "I need your identification card."

Hermione saw her perform a charm and give a card to the train-traffic inspector. He asked if she could pay the fine now, but Pansy had no muggle money.

"You'll receive a letter and then you'll have to pay it. All the modalities are on the fine I gave you. Where are you going?"

"Italy."

"Well, buy a ticket for the next train in Paris. There's an agent who'll be able to guide you. Have a nice trip Miss Granger," he said as he made his way through the carriage to check the rest of the tickets.

"Thank you." Hermione and Pansy both replied.

"Hey wait! You performed a… to…!" cried Hermione.

"Is there a problem Miss?" the inspector asked as he took the working girl's ticket.

"Yes, is there a problem?" Pansy repeated with a gullible expression on her face.

Everyone was looking at Hermione curiously. She frowned deeply in frustration.

"No… hem… I just thought, err nothing, really no problem."

She wait for the inspector to leave their carriage then she bent towards Pansy and whispered into her ear, "You can't do this. I'll report you to the Wizard Office of fraud for impersonation."

"I don't care. I'm banished from the British wizard community," she whispered back.

"What? How?" Hermione questioned, rising up abruptly.

"It's not your business."

Since Hermione was such an inquisitive girl, she couldn't help wondering what Pansy could have done to be banished. If she'd committed a crime, she would have been sent to Azkaban. She stayed quiet for a couple of seconds.

Pansy was desperately looking into her bag for something and began to throw everything out of it. It was a medium-sized hand bag, but everybody was stunned to see a big pack of clothes with many books coming out of this supposedly simple hand bag. Pansy didn't seem to care, but Hermione was starting to feel embarrassed. She clicked her tongue in exasperation and picked up Pansy's things from the floor.

"Pan… Miss Granger! You mustn't do this here; the floor is dirty. Come in the corridor with me, I'll carry your things."

Pansy stopped immediately, looking at Hermione going to the corridor. After a minute of hesitation, she followed her old enemy out the door.

"What are you doing?" Pansy asked sharply.

"You're in the muggle world. There are things you can't do here. If you do…"

"I said I don't care," she retorted furiously. "Give me my things back."

Hermione did as she was told, but turned her gaze towards Pansy's quickly emptying bag with more desperation and craziness.

"Why don't you summon what you're looking for with your wand?" Hermione asked.

Pansy began to weep and shake. "I, I don't have it anymore… Falsifying papers and sweetening my tea is all I am able to do without my wand."Hermione struggled to not ask why she wasn't in possession of her wand and said, "I'll help you. What is it?"

"A paper with an address," answered Pansy grudgingly.

"You have to be more specific."

"It's a yellow piece of parchment."

Hermione though strongly about this piece of parchment and summoned it.

One came from Pansy's bag, and one came from another carriage. She gave them both to Pansy and helped her gather her clothes silently. She knew that she wouldn't get a thank you from the Slytherin girl. "I'm going to Italy too," she said after a long moment of silence. "I'm going to live with Ron there."

"I'm not banished," Pansy replied quietly. "The ministry took my wand and forbade me from leaving the country. If I do, I'll be sent to Azkaban."

Hermione knew that this kind of punishment was only used for people suspected of a crime or thought to be linked to a criminal.

"Oh hum… Do you have family there?"

"I have Draco," she replied unconfidently.

Hermione was startled to hear that Draco Malfoy was living in Italy, too. She hadn't heard about him since his parents' trial.

So, they were two old enemies, leaving their lives in England to find their lovers in Italy. Bizarre, bizarre.

The two girls arrived in Paris and left each other without a goodbye…or a good luck.

----

Hermione didn't see Pansy again. She was sitting comfortably on a plane which was taking her towards her new life, and she thought about Ron and their relationship.

She knew he was the one.

She had been scared when a lot of couples broke up. Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Luna and Dean… Luna and Dean had split up as fast and unlikely as they had dated. How could it happen? Why do people love each other so much that they'd give up their lives for each other, and then say that they can't stand to be in the same room at the same time anymore? She had been scared to receive a letter from Ron saying he wasn't in love with her anymore. He was so far away and the last time he had been in England was six month ago. Hermione knew this couldn't happen to her. Ron and she were too bound; they knew each other perfectly, every corner of light and shadow. 'And what is more solid than a friendship that turned into love,' Hermione thought firmly.

When she arrived, the city center was full of people and tourists. Florence, in the afternoon, was actually a very nice sight. She stood there for a moment, looking all around the place, letting the sun shine smoothly over her pale skin, and reminding her how good her new life would be. The excitement squeezed her stomach, and she ran. She kept on running until she arrived at Ron's front door.

She found the key and opened the flat door gently as a little angel started to flap his wings vigorously inside her heart.

The flat was surprisingly in order; even the decoration had been chosen and placed delicately. Hermione started to wonder if it was actually Ron's flat, but then she reasoned, the key had worked.

She put her luggage down and sat on a comfortable black leather sofa. Something was bothering her. She tried to push away the feeling that she wasn't in the right place, but she couldn't move from the sofa. She decided to find the owl's cage so that she could send a message to Harry and tell him she was fine.

She found a carrier pigeon. As she sent her parchment to Harry, she wondered what Ron's reaction would be. What would she do if he was not surprised, or worse, if he was not happy to see her at all?

"I will throw this vase in his face," she said out loud looking suspiciously at the beautiful Egyptian vase that was standing proudly near the sofa.

Her stomach began to beg for food, and she got the idea to make a little meal for Ron. Hermione was a poor cooker, but she had learned from Ron's mother how to feed a Weasley properly without spending more than half an hour in the kitchen. She felt more confident when she found Ron's cookware because there weren't many. She smiled widely when she opened the fridge and saw that it was full of Butterbeers and sausages. It looked more like Ron.

Twenty nine minutes later, dinner was ready, and she started to bring the food towards the sitting room when she found herself nose to nose with Ron's wand.

"Hermione? Is that you? How did you get here?"

"Hi," was all she could say. She was holding her breath, the hot platter of pasta burning her hands.

Ron took the platter and kissed her on the nose like he always did when he was feeling tender. "You didn't have to…"

She kissed him back on the lips, though not as deeply as she had wanted because he didn't respond. 'Maybe he was too moved by her appearance,' she lied to herself. Ron put the platter on the coffee table and looked at her guiltily.

"Hermione, I tried to tell you but…"

No, no, no, NOT that. She hadn't planned that. She firmly refused to think that she had been lying to herself.

"No, Ron you didn't try. Otherwise, I would have understood. You know I'm not stupid, I found out when I arrived here." Found out what? That there was another girl? She realized that the strange feeling she had felt earlier was because of this other girl sharing her life with Ron, because of this other girl coming regularly into Ron's flat, putting it in order, but forgetting to check the fridge. What kind of girl could she be if she didn't check her boyfriend's fridge, Hermione's future ex boyfriend's fridge? She started to suffocate. Something ran down her cheeks, and she realized she was sobbing like a little girl.

"I, I'm so sorry," Ron claimed genuinely. "I'm such a coward when it comes to love, you know, I'm really awkward…"

"You're such a chicken about a lot of things Ronald Weasley, but above all you're a coward when it comes to noble feelings like friendship or love. Nobody can trust you."

"Hey, we're talking about us, about THIS relationship. Don't try to shoot me down again by casting my old mistakes in my face."

"Again?"

"Yeah, you always do this when we argue. You shoot me down, and use my weaknesses as weapons."

"That's not true! I'm always helping you show the best of yourself, you ungrateful pig."

"Yeah, you always wanted the best of me, but I'm just me. You wanted us to live together forever, but I just have my life. You wanted us to walk in parallel lines when I was walking sideways. Will you always see a coward in me? Someone too average?" He finally asked, his voice lowing.

'Did he rehearse this speech or what?' Hermione wondered as she felt devastated.

"Oh Ron," she cried obviously not trying to hold back tears. "You got everything wrong. Before being your girlfriend, I was your friend. I would never, ever shoot you down. You got everything wrong," she repeated still weeping loudly as the little angel she had in her heart crashed like a vulgar pigeon.

She took her luggage and ran towards the door while Ron tried to grab her arm.

"Where are you going Hermione? You can stay here as long as you… No! Put the vase down please, it's hard to fix it…!" But she threw it with all her strength and ran faster.

Without thinking, she got onto the first bus she found. Every dream she had cherished for such a long time was, now, only specks of dust, dead matter.

* * *

Now review! I'm not scared of bitchy or flamed review as long as they're fair, I think every critics help to improve. So, come on!


	2. Chapter 2

_Days which resemble nothing but the shadows of the night  
Silence which echoes like a scream in the soul  
When the eyelids don't even have the force of a storm  
When the flood carries me away I can no longer see the shore  
Love which wasn't born at the right season  
When spring forgets to open its buds  
The ever full moons which no longer smile at me  
Like chess when the queen is lost_

_That everything's black  
How can I tell you  
That everything's black _

Damien Saez

**Chapter 2 The break of a linear process**

Hermione arrived in a large square that contained a giant cathedral she recognized as the famous Dome of Florence. She sat there, in the cathedral square, in front of thousands of tourists. The sun was setting on the old Italian city as she remembered the dream she had, the dream about her coming to live with Ron. Why hadn't she realized it was just a dream?

Maybe because it sounded like a prophecy, like an elusive truth, she didn't know why, but everybody agreed that Ron and she were meant to be together, like Ginny and Harry, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Merlin and Vivien...

She had waited seven years before dating Ron, waiting two more years was too demanding. Like everyone else, she was certain that their love was so pure, like a Venetian mask she talked to, it shouldn't have died like that.

_One night before her departure to Italy, she was sleeping at the Burrow. She was lying on Ron's bed, staring at the Venetian mask he had brought home six month ago, while Ginny and Harry were becoming one like two Siamese fetus in the next bedroom. She didn't know if she was dreaming already, but at this moment, she was fascinated by the pure white color of the mask. She wondered if the mask was enchanted because it seemed like it was looking at her with its nonexistent eyes, its half open lips appeared to be trying to tell her something. Hermione was so impressed with its virgin color that she decided to ask the mask what the secret was of its purity._

"_What did you do, you beautiful mask, to have such an ingenuous and milky face?"_

_Silence …_

_She thought that she was very odd, but as she adjusted to lie more comfortably, the mask appeared in her mind and suddenly took life._

"_The white color of my skin is the result of my chastity." It had an androgynous voice._

"_Who are you?" asked Hermione._

"_I am platonic love and you're the only one who knows that I still exist. You know, people only think about desire and carnal love. I practice pure cerebral love. That is the reason why my skin is always so pure."_

_A landscape started to draw itself behind the mask. It was a large field of orange trees. A horse appeared in the distance and said that Ron was waiting for her._

_Then, she got a speech about virginal color, a milky face, and she might have discovered why Michael Jackson had whitened his skin._

"You left England to become a beggar in Florence streets?" Asked a sarcastic voice that invaded her thoughts, it was Pansy.

Hermione didn't reply and just looked away.

"Your eyes are red like a flying monkey ass," added Pansy.

"Your voice is unbearable like a constipated flying monkey ass."

"How do you know what a…"

"What do you want?" Hermione cut her off sharply.

"I can't find my way. And it's weird, but this city doesn't seem to shelter a lot of wizard," she said scrutinizing her surroundings.

"Wizard communities are often situated in harbors. The Witch hunt was very hard and efficient in Italy during the 16th century. Few wizards stayed even though they lived near the borders…"

"Thanks for your lesson on medieval history, but I'm just looking for a place to sleep."

Hermione looked at her with interest. She shivered when she met Pansy's red and wet eyes that were like two freshly-cut wounds. She didn't know if she should laugh at the ironic situation or not. The girl looked like a flying monkey ass, too. However, Pansy didn't eye away; she stood there and looked almost bored.

"I did some research when Ron first arrived here," Hermione said and suddenly felt weak. "I found him a hostel under Florence. There's a tiny wizard gallery there. Come on, I have to go there, too. We'll have to find the underground station first."

Pansy followed Hermione, and to the latter's astonishment, she was a real chatterbox. Hermione suspected that Pansy wanted to avoid questions about Draco's welcome. It was not as if she needed to know what had happened; besides she had her own problems. The chattering wasn't at all friendly, almost annoying since Pansy talked mostly about gossip.

"Don't you feel a bit amputated without a wand?" Hermione asked while they took a secret passage to the underground platform.

"Like hell! I don't know how muggles live without magic."

"They have their own."

"Yeah, eleccity, or whatever it is," Pansy agreed with scorn. "Anyway, there's an old, but talented wand maker near a town called Marina di Massa. Draco should accompany me there…Did you know that Ollivander had a hidden child named Silenos? People reckon he's as gifted as his father, and that's why the famous wand maker…" Hermione gave up and let her speak, only nodding a few times.

They were walking so languidly that people bumped them here and there until they finally found the gallery.

Despite the little size, it was a very beautiful place with an artificial sky that was even more wonderful and impressive than the Hogwarts' ceiling. There was a crowded way, which ran alongside many shops, two restaurants, a bank, and a hostel: La stella di dannato.

-----

Hermione followed the receptionist up the stairs and was annoyed by the relentless speech of Pansy. Nevertheless she listened, she listened to Pansy saying, "When you've been deceived, even if you're the good and faithful and earnest person in the couple you can't help feeling stupid like a fork in a bowl of soup." It was so true.

"Finally, in love, there's ninety percent curiosity against ten percent fear of being left alone like an old crap," Pansy added. "What happened to me never matters. Nobody dies around me. For example, I never placed a foot on Hogwart's during the Final Battle. My drama takes place in expensive restaurants, luxurious mansions, and pure blood weddings. The last most sorrowful thing that happened to me was not recieving an invitation to Blaise's wedding. And then, suddenly, pain is killing me".

The receptionist left them in front of their respective rooms and mumbled some incomprehensible words before going back down. Silence suddenly fell between the two girls.

"Well," Pansy began strangely discomforted. "I guess this will be the last time we see each other."

"Err, the hostel is not that big, and we've already ran into each other twice today."

"Yeah, when it rains, it pours."

"Yeah...Well, hum, bye then…and good luck."

"...Thanks."

When Hermione got inside her rooms, the feeling of loss froze her veins again. She wasn't ready to go back to England, and she thought that she could sleep the rest of the day here. Maybe she would wake up and find that everything was just a bad dream. Ron would come back and say that he was sorry; he would beg for forgiveness in such a perfect way that she would forgive him.

Hermione was the kind of girl who only cried one time. She used to rehash the situation in her head until she decided to let out her rancor. At that moment, she couldn't help, but feel stupid and useless. She had been so eager to see Ron, to kiss him, to touch him that she still had his taste inside her mouth. Now, she wanted to kill him.

As she fell asleep, exhausted by the pain, Pansy Parkinson sat on a hard chair and lit her last cigarette. Her room was poorly furnished with a large white bed, a coat rack, a sofa, and a silver mirror.

She looked at her reflection, elegant and serene, taking all the mess lightly. Currently, she was the measliest form of life on earth, but she did not worry. She had tried everything; it was the same circle that leaded to nowhere, and she was tired now.

She took another drag of her cigarette, thinking that doing it the muggle way would be painful, but she did not worry. She just had to find something fast and efficient...

* * *

So how is it? I'm still wondering if I should update it everyday or post it completely...


	3. Chapter 3

_The sun is rising and we're still here  
In the dawn of our dreams to forget death  
And the youth is burning is this suicidal fire  
Nothing matters anymore in this hell_

_So we stay here, poor generation  
Without an aim, without a why, but tell me  
Where's the horizon  
Alive or dead, I know that one day  
One day we'll fly away_

Saez (he's one of my favorite french singer)

**Chapter 3 : Ghosts**

The loud bangs on her door woke Hermione up abruptly. She looked at her watch; she had only slept two hours. Who could it be? Ron?

She approached the door and heard lots of voices. Confused, she opened it warily. There were many customers, some employees, the receptionist and two men dressed in dark blue cloaks she recognized as Italian wizarding authorities' uniforms. One of them was looking sternly at her, while the other was pushing the crowd away.

"Yes? Is there a problem?"

"Youl fliend ad bin kill", the receptionist said with difficulty.

"What?" Did he say that her friend had been killed? She must have misunderstood.

"Miss Pansy Parkinson was killed in her room twenty minutes ago," one of the men in blue answered. "I'm Mister Baldini, and this is Mister Sconi."

"Oh Merlin...!"

"I am sorry," he continued on quickly. "We caught the murderer, and we have some questions to ask you."

"A murderer?"

"Yes, it also seems that he knows you."

"He?"

"His name is Draco Malfoy."

As she followed Mister Baldini down to the kitchen, where Draco was guarded, Hermione caught a glimpse of Pansy's room. The body was lying on the bed, soiling its virgin color. The blood coming from Pansy's head gave her goose flesh. No matter how many people she had seen dead, whoever it was, it always gave her the same electric shock that ran down her spine.

"I didn't kill her! I already told you how I found myself in her room." Hermione could hear Draco's growling from behind the kitchen door. "Why don't you check my memories in a pensive?"

"There's a procedure to follow Mister Malfoy," spoke the guard severely. "As you have been caught at the scene of the crime, you're the one who'll constitute the fold which will prove your innocence in front of the court. For the moment, you're going to follow me to the prison. You'll have a fair trial in the next forty-eight hours."

"Miss Granger is here," spoke Baldini.

Draco's eyes widened when he saw Hermione there. She couldn't tell if he felt relieved or defeated.

The guard gave a nod and approached.

"Miss Granger, do you know this man?"

"Yes," she answered a bit hesitantly. "It is Draco Malfoy."

"Did you know something about him meeting Miss Parkinson?"

"No, Miss Parkinson and I had just met by coincidence. I didn't know anything about her project and the people she would meet."

But, she immediately remembered Pansy talking about joining Draco and felt suddenly embarrassed. Was she thinking that Draco couldn't have killed Pansy? The memory of her captivity in Malfoy Manor came to her while she was wondering if he could be the murderer.

"The murder weapon was a gun." A chill went down her spine. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't have used a muggle weapon.

"Did you hear a gunshot Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Did you here anything?"

"No, nothing."

The guard and Mister Baldini shared suspicious looks. "You are no doubt aware, Miss Granger, that if we discover later that you didn't tell the truth or even left out some elements you may be arrested for complicity?"

"I, I'm telling the entire truth."

"Hum, did you hear any argument?" He asked after a pause. "A fight?"

"No, I'm sorry." Hermione felt more and more discomforted. The guy was right, how come she didn't hear any noise?

She looked at Malfoy. His features were less juvenile, and his hair was longer, emphasizing his resemblance to Lucius Malfoy. He had an odd look on his face, like he was looking at a ghost, a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"Miss Granger?" She turned her head back to Mister Baldini, who was handing her a black bottle. "Miss Granger, you must drink this in order to prove that you are not under any curse or potion before I seal this interview."

"I'm totally in possession of myself," she attested after drinking all the liquid.

* * *

**A/N : I don't know how I didn't notice that it's such a short chapter while I was writing the fic... Anyway, thanks to my first reviewers : Edwardslovers09 and penenelliepie. As I like to say, there's nothing more heartening than receive reviews! Oh, and I'll take your advices and update it entirely.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 The break of a linear process, round II**

She stood there watching the men disapparate with Malfoy. She knew it was Pansy's own act, and Malfoy wouldn't have any difficulties proving it.

Besides, what was Malfoy's version of the events? Why had he been found in her room? What if the investigation revealed that there actually was a murderer?

Hermione sat on a trolley and leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter as she wonder why life had suddenly given up following its usual race. Her reason was telling her to go back immediately to London, to lock herself into her bedroom and wait for life to take back its linear process. But she felt involved now and she wanted to understand. She wanted to understand Pansy's act. And something about Malfoy's look was disturbing too.

This is how the witch found herself in Domodossola, the Franco-Italian prison situated under the White Mountain, looking for Malfoy. She first thought about pretending to be his lawyer, but Malfoy might have already met with his. Then, she just introduced herself as a witness.

There was no artificial sky: a few torches lightened the prison's walls like specters. As she followed the guard silently, smells of urine, vomit, and rot came one after the other and blended together, tightening the knot she had inside her stomach. On the other hand, the cells were guarded by wizard instead of dementors, Hermione noticed, which was less sinister.

Malfoy shared his cell with three other supposed criminals. Hermione had expected to see him standing like a peacock and cursing on everybody or looking self-righteous. But he was just sitting on the opposite bench alone, staring at the bars. When the guard went to pick him, she wanted to stop him or run away as if she was about to do to something against her nature.

Too late, Malfoy was in front of her now. The guard guided them towards a little room without doors or chairs, just space.

Hermione waited, trying to decipher Draco's thoughts, but his face wasn't expressing anything but incomprehension.

"What do you want?" He asked in a voice as cold as the voice of a Gringotts employee.

"I know you didn't kill Pansy. I want to know what happened."

"Why? It's none of your business."

"This is my business. You see, I just can't see Pansy alive and miserable, dead within the next hours, and then, go back home as if it doesn't matter to me." No response.

"Malfoy stop looking at me as if I'm a ghost and answer!"

"But that's what you are... You and Pansy, you're like poltergeists... messing with my almost quiet life like two rancorous ghosts. But, there are some ghosts who would be better to stay in their closet."

"What are you talking about? Do you realize that Pansy is dead? Dead Malfoy...!" Maybe because of him she wanted to add.

"And you know what? I did want to kill her. To tell you the truth, I wanted to squeeze her throat until her eyes left her head."

"But... I thought you were lovers..."

"Lovers?" Malfoy smirked. "I never loved anybody but myself, Granger. She knocked on my door, begged for help because she had some problems, but I have problems too. How could I protect her from sinking when I'm myself plummeting to the depths?"

Hermione was too upset to say anything. That might have been the reason why his face softened...or maybe he just felt relief after his confession.

"I, I reckon I was too harsh," he said after a pause, "...But she seemed to understand; I thought she was ok with it... Now, she killed herself like a vulgar muggle."

"You're a git."

"Well, what did you expect? I'm a Malfoy."

"I mean, you're _still_ a git."

They stared angrily at each other, eyes full of reproach as old as Hogwarts history, full of antagonistic sorrow, filled them with despair. And then, something strange happened, everything was gone, years of hardship had blown away as they found each other's crack, which the rain would never be able to fill up.

Malfoy buried his head in his hands, shoulders down, and when he let his face appear, Hermione saw an unfamiliar look. Perhaps, it was just another mask?

"Time has passed for everybody except Pansy," he spoke softly. "Even Goyle is clean; I visited him in prison last year. He does gymnastic and created a group of anonymous ex-young-death eaters there... " A light smirk curved his lips.

"How did it happen", Hermione tried again.

"She sent me a message, asking me to come to the hostel. The two worst things you can say to me are: We can stay friends, and we need to talk, Pansy did both.

I accepted without thinking; it was just too weird to forsake her like that, after all these years... I found her lying on the bed with a big bloodied hole in her head. They walked in when I took the gun from her hand." It was that simple, Draco arrived too late.

"And you?" He asked.

"And me what?" Hermione retorted.

"Why are you here?"

"I already told you, I wanted to know what happened."

"No, why are you here, in Florence?" He didn't know why he cared, but he didn't want to tell her how lost she looked.

"I... met Ron."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How is he?"

Hermione gulped. This conversation was absolutely incredible. Draco Malfoy, who used to dislike her, who used to take advantage of her slightest weaknesses to shoot her down, was, at twenty-three years old, confessing his sorrows and interrogating her about Ron. "He's fine."

"I heard he has a new girlfriend," Draco said casually, as if he was talking about the weather.

Checkmate! Straight to the heart, "Hum, yeah..." Shit, she should have known that he would find a way to hurt her.

Saved by the bell, the guard came in the room telling them that the meeting was over.

She left him without one more word.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Please, tell me what you think of it. Is it good or crap?

_"Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."_G. K. Chesterton

_"Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it."_ Alexandre Dumas.

**Chapter 5 Nobody likes other's fairytale, except Hermione.**

Two pigeons were waiting beside her window when she arrived in her room. One message was from the magical court, telling her that she might be summoned for Draco's trial. The next one was from Ron.

She felt as if someone had delicately put salt on her wounds when she recognized the bad writing of her ex-boyfriend.

Her heart was racing and she had in her gut a ball as big as a bludger while she opened the parchment shakily.

_"You wanted to find light in me, but I just had me and my inability to stay serious."_ There was no "hello", no introduction, no "dear Hermione" as if the letter had begun with the words from before. _"Sometimes, I wish I was like you. You never flee. You never choose the easy way. I wish I didn't yield to some impulses, and thought ahead before reacting…I'm a good Gryffindor, some people would say, or a git, as others think…But, it is just a question of self-confidence. I must confess that in spite of being a celebrity, I still don't believe in myself. I still doubt my person."_

Where was he leading her? What did he mean?

_"But, if I'm loved by you and Harry, the greatest people I know, I mustn't be that mediocre? I must be a good-hearted person."_ That's it...his paranoia about everybody seeing him as the last Weasley boy and the friend of Harry Potter...

_"So, I tried to chasten myself; with time, I'll learn how to build myself up in order to love you all better, but I have no regrets. When I arrived in Italy two years ago, I realized I wanted a new life, as if nothing had happened, I only sent you a few letters because I wanted you to get used to my silence. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry, but I have no regrets. No one really knows me here, you know. When they do recognize me, they talk about the war as a regretful fratricidal conflict which got out of hand. And I like it, I like the way I'm just me when I live here, with Sierra."_ So, the name of that bitch was Sierra.

She lay on the bed, griping the letter firmly over her chest. It was hurtful. How would things have been different if she hadn't decided to join Ron? Would he have found the courage to tell her the truth? Would she felt as devastated? How long has he been dating this Sierra? She shook her head at the thought of Ron already dating the girl the last time he came to Great Britain. What was more hurtful was that she had no regrets either. It was not as if she suddenly found that things were going the right way. No, she just had no choice, but to accept things the way they were. There were no regrets, just pain and loss.

Hermione reckoned that there was only one certitude: she wouldn't have met Pansy and Draco. The Slytherin boy seemed to be the other victim of this mess. It was odd... She expected him to be less gloomy. Did she miss the mudblood insults? There was something very comfortable with people staying themselves. She meant, people staying the same way you were use to them being. No surprise, no disappointment, no questions. Why question since thinking is painful?

----

She came back to Great Britain the next midday. Hedwig was waiting in her little owlery. There were a lot of parchments and letters, most of them written by Harry and Ginny. As Hermione had expected, Ron had told them about his unfaithfulness.

Harry was asking if she was ok and wanted to talk about it, and Ginny was inviting her to come and spend some day in their flat. No, she didn't want to see any redheads for the moment. And Harry...well, she had nothing to say to him.

She stayed at home, reading book after book, crying sometimes, reconsidering Harry's offer, reading books again, sleeping, and crying while reading books...

Fairytales only exist in fairytales. The truth is more disappointing. The truth is always more disappointing. That's why everybody lies.

The truth was the smell of Sierra in Ron's flat. The truth was the apocalyptic hole he left inside her. The truth was Harry's sympathetic face when Hermione opened her front door.

"You knew?" She asked tiredly when they sat in the sitting room.

"Yes and no."

"You can't know and not know at the same time."

"At least, I should have guessed. She was his shop assistant."

"Oh..." She sighed, holding back tears.

"The problem was that he just was not ready," Harry tried to say.

"The problem was that he hadn't kept his promises." Hermione retorted. "When did he start to lie? Was he still happy to come back home? When he said he loved me, did he always mean it? There must have been a fateful moment when the "I love you" wasn't the same anymore."

"Hermione, you saw each other only two weeks this entire year. It must have dawned on you, too."

Yes, but she wasn't ready to confess it. To hear it was so unpleasant, it was like failing a magic trick, or waking up during an erotic dream , or spending holidays in Rio under the rain. She had made love with him fewer and fewer time, thinking that it didn't matter. She had persuaded herself that each day solidified their love, when instead the end of the world was coming for them. Now, she wanted to drown herself in her washbasin, but there were too many dishes in it. She remembered the night Ron had stopped shaving his beard before sleeping. He used to shave it because Hermione didn't like it when it was bristly. She thought it didn't matter to her anymore, but they stopped loving each other at the same time. They already broke up without even noticing. So, why did she feel that empty?

She looked Harry in the eyes, remembering that he was about to get married. Everything was just too perfect for him. Ginny and he were too beautiful, like two actors in a television wedding ad, or two Oscar winners. She realized then that she had congratulated them, envied them, wished them happiness, and believed them when they claimed they wanted to live together forever and ever, but she never asked them why.

"Harry, why are you getting married?"

He looked back at his friend, thinking hard before speaking. "I used to think that I was getting married for the others: for my dead parents, for Ginny's family, to swear in front of the world that I will love her till the end, to confirm everyone's wishes or fears. Now sincerely, I think that I deserve that kind of simple happiness. I'm marrying Ginny because it'll make me happy."


	6. Chapter 6

_Like the sun at the end of a century  
Which falls asleep in your arms  
Maybe I will leave tomorrow  
If you go with me  
Come  
Let's leave together  
It's a beautiful evening to die  
And if your hand trembles  
Just tell yourself that you just have to leave_

Damien Saez, _Jours étranges__  
_

**Chapter 6: Dead matters**

She was dead.

Hermione woke up the next morning with an unbearable urge to sleep. She hadn't eaten since she had arrived home; besides, there were no food in her fridge. She sent back Ginny's letter without reading it. She dressed in black and went out into the city. As usual, rain was pouring in London. She found a restaurant near University College Hospital of London where George Orwell died, like her. The waiter placed her next to a couple whose woman was tactless enough to be pregnant. Hermione thought she'd never have children. Dead people do not reproduce.

She was wandering around Diagon Alley letting the cold rain remind her that she was still alive, when she saw, in a black cloak, the shine of long blond hairs. Draco Malfoy was buying a copy of the Daily Prophet, the bunch of flowers in his left hand clashing with his bereavement look. He also bought a quill to underline something on the newspaper, and then dropped both items into a bin.

Her gaze followed him as he travelled down the street, and a few minutes later her feet followed too, picking up the newspaper from the bin in the way. She wanted to talk to this young, disturbed, paradoxical, and mysterious man. Mysterious, because even if she thought she had figured this old spoiled child out, his behavior was totally variable and she abruptly came face to face with his sloppy soul. He intrigued her.

Hermione continued to follow him down Diagon alley when he disappeared all of a sudden. Frustrated, she scrutinized the surroundings, but he had disapparated. She observed the newspaper she was carrying, and found a small article outlined in red on the end of the front page.

"Are you looking for someone Granger?"

Taken aback, Hermione turned to see Draco standing right in front of her. Rain was trickling down his head, making his hair stick to his forehead and pearling on his eyelids.

"I want to come with you," she said as she showed him the article.

"No, no way." She grabbed his sleeve. "What are you doing?" He yelled as he pushed her away. "You've gone mad Granger!"

"Maybe, I don't know." Draco stared at her.

"I must have gotten mad, too." He said, adjusting his sleeve and collar. "Hold onto me, Valley of mist, graveyard."

Life was a low book according to Draco Malfoy: a series of events which beat down on the same characters and which denouements are never like we hoped them to be. The return of Hermione in his life surprised him, it was as if superman had turned up in Merlin's cave and had taken the Holy Grail right under his nose. He always thought she looked like a guinea pig with her bushy brown hair, her big brown eyes, her small legs, and freckles instead of a moustache. Her body seemed to be conceived to make people want to wind her up and give her sunflower seeds. It was so funny to imagine her small legs running into a wheel. He reckoned the only difference between Granger and a guinea pig was that she didn't have long front teeth anymore... Well, ok, she was cleverer than a guinea pig, too.

They apparated into the middle of a tiny crowd. The graveyard reminded Hermione of the cemetery in Godric's Hollow. Draco nodded at a few people and led her to the far back to have a seat. Everybody sat silently while an old man dressed in a smart black-velvet cloak stood in front of the coffin. As he started a speech, Hermione noticed that nobody was paying attention to him but to a graceful lady who strongly resembled Pansy.

"Is that Mrs. Parkinson?"

"Yes, it is. Everybody's watching her closely to see if she's crying. For Merlin's sake, let's pray she'll hold on."

She was indeed holding on, but the old man had his secret weapon: he talked about Pansy's dreams and the life she wouldn't ever live. And the signal had been given: Mrs. Parkinson started to cry and all the audience wept, too. To Draco's great annoyance, even Hermione was crying without any reserve.

"You're actually impressionable," whispered Draco in her ear. She answered him with a sad look. "Pansy didn't even like you," he added.

"Me too," replied Hermione.

Draco sighed and whispered again. "I've seen friends craving to engross Voldemort's army; I went through those who turned their back on me, and finally those who remain get separated before dying." Draco continued on. "I have never killed anybody, but I keep on seeing blood on my hands. I'm not a murderer said that old senile. He's right, I am not. I am worse: a walking disease which contaminates everybody. First Dumbledore, Vincent, my mother and then Pansy..."

"Perhaps you're paying for your misdemeanors," she said because it sounded fair, sick prats like Malfoy deserve to be miserable, but she wasn't convinced. If truth be told, she didn't belong to the group that swears everybody pays for their bad actions one day or another. She believed it was crap invented to keep victims of unfairness quiet.

She couldn't hear Draco's reply because everybody stood up too see the coffin disappearing and the gravestone setting itself up.

Then, the old man invited people to come one by one to collect themselves in front of the tomb or to give a last present. Hermione insisted that she would accompany Draco. Those who recognized them turned to get a better look as they made their way to put flowers on Pansy's grave and were stunned to see this unexpected couple in this unexpected place.

The flood of Hermione's tears doubled as she read the loving words engraved in the marble.

"Don't you have a sense of decency?" drawled Malfoy. His discomfort grew when they turned back and met thirty bewildered eyes staring at them.

"Please Granger, keep the tiny part of dignity Weasley hasn't trampled on yet to spare me humiliation. Why are you so weepy anyway? Will you feel better if he takes you back?"

No, she wouldn't, because something was definitely broken. She was too disappointed in Ron. She just needed time to accept that from now on she was alone. It was how she understood that she couldn't handle to be forsaken as she never abandoned anything or anybody. The thought of the end of anything was just unbearable: youth, school, friendship, life, love. How lonely and desperate she felt at the end of each school term. How upset she had been when she discovered that the French word "Adieu" is only used for eternal parting. How anguished she felt when she realized that Kellogg's had changed his recipe and that she would never eat the same chocolate cornflakes again.

With some harsh hiccups here and there, she managed to stop crying.

The crowed moved slightly, and then parted to let Mrs. Parkinson through. The woman approached them.

"Please leave Draco, go away, and I don't want to see you again," she whispered with a cold voice, contrasting with her shaking body.

Malfoy instantly did as he was told, leaving a terrified Hermione alone in front of one of the grisliest thing in the world, not counting Voldemort's body exposed in the middle of the Ministry of Magic: a shrew in grief of her unique daughter.

Fortunately, Pansy's mother just sent her a spiteful look and went away. She had never been so fast at apparating in her house.


	7. Chapter 7

_"To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless." _G.

_"__Man can believe the impossible, but can never believe the improbable"_ Oscar Wilde

**Chapter 7: Inflamed Red head, Steel Grey eyes, and Pure White dreams**

Ginny's owl was waiting for her, flying in circles over her head like a starving vulture. She didn't even bother to send the parchment back, just locked the owl in the kitchen and slept in the sitting room with every light on.

Loud bangs resounded; Hermione woke up abruptly and found herself in her hostel room in Florence. She lied back on the couch, burying her head under the pillow, wishing that it was a bad dream. Someone was yelling behind the door, and it was a female voice. Her heart missed a beat when she wondered if it could be Pansy's ghost. She stopped dead as she heard the ghost cry: "Hermione, it's Ginny, I know you're here. Why don't you want to talk to me?" She took one glimpse out from under the pillow.

"Oh Merlin, I'll end up in Saint-Mungo's soon," she groaned as she went to open the door.

First, she thought Ginny was about to cry. Then, she was sure she was about to hit her, but finally she received a big hug. Luna was there too, looking dreamy as usual. Hermione hugged her too and invited them to sit in the main room.

"I sent you three letters. I asked Harry about you and all he could say was that you were still in shock, but I know you Hermione Jane Granger, it's not all about Ron. Now, talk to me."

It was as if her unconscious mind was obeying directly to Ginny and revealed everything that happened until Pansy's funeral even things she didn't wanted to say at loud. Like "Actually, Malfoy was handsome in his black silk cloak." That was the first time she saw true and deep stupor in Luna's face. She never knew she would live long enough to watch that. When her friends asked about her feelings for Ron, she answered that she definitely let him go although she loved him. What an outrage to life! She loved him, and he just looked at his own misery, his own doubts, his own uncertainties, his own need to be healed. He wasn't lovable anymore, but still, she loved him.

"Please Hermione, don't tell me you're attracted to the ferret," besought Ginny.

"That's not what I said... I said... err." She sighed. Ginny's look incited her to continue.

"At first, I thought he was a stupid and egocentric coward. After careful considerations, I figured out that he's still a coward, dreadfully egocentric... but stupid, I'm not that sure anymore. Ok, I must confess that he attracts me...a bit... despite his neurotic narcissism, his thin nose, and his sarcasm." Ginny was miming pure disgust.

"It surprises you." Hermione smiled widely. "A muggle poet said that beauty is weird, I've never found it truer, than in my situation."

Draco Malfoy was just a pure product of wizard high society, which had made humans bitter and blunt, but so attractive. And what is more attractive than the incomprehensible?

"But how can someone be obnoxious and attractive at the same time?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"I don't know, maybe he's changed."

"Hermione, he won't ever change, _you_ can't change him. He's a prat and he'll always be."

"To hijack a magicobus, you have to be on it", Hermione heard herself say.

"But he used to loath you," insisted Ginny.

"To like someone who already likes you is close to narcissism," said Luna. "To like someone who dislikes you is closer to true love, actually."

That closed Ginny's mouth for a moment. She stayed quiet, absorbed by what she had learned this night.

Hermione looked at Luna, and suddenly felt ashamed as she realized that they hadn't met for a long time and she'd spoken about herself all the time.

"What is the news Luna?"

"Hum, nothing really important... I want to cut my hair; they're too long." She untied her bun to reveal long golden blond hairs touching the floor. Hermione strongly nodded. "... And I want to buy a flying boat but they're forbidden in Great Britain... And I'm dating Neville... Well, nothing really eventful."

"You're dating Neville? That's great!"

"It was, until he asked me to marry him."

"You're kidding! What did you answer?"

"I refused".

Hermione looked at Ginny. The latter rolled her eyes in exasperation...Or despair?

"Why? How long did you date him?"

"Not long enough. I think guys like Neville who find themselves ugly when they were teens are so much surprised to seduce a girl that they ask them for marriage too quickly."

Hermione and Ginny shared another astonished look, and laugh like two teenagers for ten minutes. They discussed all night long about love, men, and weddings, to conclude that there was a total incomprehension between boys and girls.

----

She woke up the following night in a better mood. Leaning on her bedroom's window, she watched London's shut eyes. Some couples were going back home, others were looking for an ideal place to flirt. 'London by night was a bit romantic,' thought Hermione. She was wondering what she could cook with only a pack of flour, one outdated egg and a billywig's sting when she caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy stepping in front of her house.

He seemed to hesitate.

"I'm coming," Hermione yelled as he was finally turning back.

She put on a housecoat and ran downstairs to open the door.

"Hi...What brings you here?"

He seemed to think about a proper answer, but nothing came. He just said hi back.

Hermione smiled and let him in.

"Take your ease in the sitting room, I'll make tea. Hum, I mean, do you want a cup of muggle tea?" He nodded, still wondering why he was there.

She came back few minutes later with two cups of lime-blossom tea and sugar. "It wasn't very nice of you to leave me alone there," she said as she gave him his cup.

He simply nodded again. His silence was making her nervous. She couldn't say why, but Draco Malfoy openly apologizing for his past behavior highly terrified her. Talking about this moment would have put their identities in question, and Draco's eyes were saying that he totally agreed with her.

"So, what have you been doing these past six years?" she asked.

"I married Pansy, got divorced, emptied my father's Gringotts accounts and ran away to Florence."

Everyone had indeed heard about Lucius Malfoy raging in vain in front of the Wisenmagot to recover his fortune.

"Why did you take the risk to come back?"

"I'm cunning...And I'm a coward, that's why I always flee... But sometimes stepping up is more cunning."

She raised her eyebrows, but he didn't seem to want to explain himself. He just took a sip of his tea and fell into silence again. It wasn't a comfortable silence. They were experiencing a strange feeling, not admitting it to themselves, not wanting to say too much.

"Did you visit Florence?" He finally spoke.

"No, let's say I wasn't in the mood anymore. But it looks nice."

"It's not nice, it's beautiful. Would you like to come? I'm building a farm near my orange tree fields. I'll buy sheep, and horses, and chicks, and rabbits, and you'll play the guinea pig."

"No, I'm sorry I'm a bookworm. But we can make a deal if you accept to play the ferret."

"Let's make a deal."

Draco was a Narcissus of the modern era, he bent over the river, but instead of drowning in his reflection, he stepped back and went to see in others' rivers to find out that finally they were not better than he was.

What was very annoying was that Hermione's water was pure white. No reflection, no ooze, just a sea of milk, nothing to do with guilelessness or innocence. He was sure that one day he would catch her pouring the Virgin liquid into the river, and he would stop her because nothing good can come from entertaining a dream.

FIN

* * *

**A/N : This is the end! It didn't take me time to write it but I kept on wondering if it was actually sufficient, if I could have written more or if I had to write more. I don't know if it's sufficient but I put everything I wanted on paper (on screen). Moreover I couldn't and still can't write another chapter because it will be like wringing a dried towel. Let's say I prefer to let readers fantasize the rest. But who knows? I may be inspired one day.**

**Thank you so much for reading.**


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